Chapter 7 Kaylor #2
With his features pinched in disgust, he held out his arms, glaring down at himself as if he didn’t know what to do next.
I probably should have tried to run, to escape down the stairs, but I didn’t want to risk him discovering his phone was missing too soon and fouling my one chance.
I had to choose. Make a run for it. Or try to call Kreed.
I had only a split second to decide, and as much as my instincts screamed at me to bolt, I stayed pressed against the wall.
“Move your fucking ass,” he ordered as he propelled me back toward my room, keys already jangling in his free hand. He smelled horrible, and it was nearly enough to make my stomach roll. “Next time you beg for company, I’ll cuff you to the bed. Remember that, whore.”
“So I guess there’s no chance of us being friends,” I retorted snarkily.
He didn’t find me funny. “The only friend you’re making is behind that camera.” He shoved me into the room harder than necessary, and the door slammed shut behind me, the locks engaging.
I scrambled to the corner farthest from the door, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. Keeping my back to the camera, I dropped to the floor and pulled out the stolen phone, my hands trembling so violently I nearly dropped it twice. The screen lit up at my touch.
Please work. Please, God, just fucking work.
The phone didn’t require a password and had barely any apps on it. Definitely a work device and probably never left this facility. Thank God, for small miracles. I tapped the phone icon, fingers clumsy with desperation and hope.
My fingers shook so badly I almost missed a digit, but I corrected it, punching the last number with a silent prayer.
What if he didn’t answer?
My throat was raw from holding back tears, and I needed to hear his voice…just once. Even if it was for a minute.
The phone rang as I huddled in the corner. I didn’t dare press it to my ear in fear that whoever monitored the security would see it. Whoever they were. I kept the phone on speaker, lowering the volume as it continued to ring.
Kreed, don’t you dare ignore my call. I will fucking kill you. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. I chanted the plea in my head over and over as the seconds stretched into what felt like hours.
“Who the fuck is this?”
My lungs seized. His voice. Real and sharp and furious—so fucking Kreed. “Kreed?”
“Little raven?”
Hope surged like a lightning strike, but it was short-lived.
The bedroom door exploded open, and the thin thread of salvation I’d been holding on to snapped.
My body whipped around, the phone clutched so tightly my knuckles burned.
I had him; he was right there on the line, and now he was being ripped away from me before I even got the chance.
My time was up before it began. Tears of frustration gathered in my eyes. I wanted two more fucking minutes.
“No.” I choked, the word breaking apart on my tongue. Tears stung, blurring my vision. “Kreed!” I screamed into the phone.
The guard stormed into the room with the fury of someone who’d just realized he’d been played. He had on a fresh shirt, his face twisting with rage, eyes wide and wild as they locked onto me crouched in the corner with his phone in my hands. “You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that,” he growled.
“No! Please, just give me one more second!” A sob clawed up my throat as he barreled toward me. I screamed as he tackled me, the phone flying from my hands in a perfect arc through the air.
He caught it with reflexes definitely not learned from playing mobile games, his fingers closing around the device even as his body drove me into the floor hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. “Who did you call?” he demanded.
“Fuck you,” I spat.
He held up the phone, his face cycling through expressions. When he saw the call was still connected and heard Kreed’s voice growling my name, the guard’s face went completely white, then flushed red as a boiled lobster.
“If you fucking hurt her, I’ll—”
Click. The line went dead, Kreed’s voice gone, and with it, the last tether to hope was ripped out of my hands.
A ragged sob escaped me.
I’d been so close.
So close to him.
“Fuck!” The word blasted from the guard’s mouth. He raised the phone above his head and slammed it against the floor, shattering the screen.
I lost it, letting my survival instincts kick in. I thrashed and clawed and bit, my teeth finding the soft flesh of his forearm while my nails raked across his neck hard enough to draw blood.
He shouted for backup as he struggled to pin me down. Footsteps pounded in the hallway, reinforcements coming.
“Get off me!” I screamed until my voice turned hoarse, tears streaming down my face, not from fear but from pure, concentrated rage at being treated like an animal.
Two more guards poured through the doorway, and suddenly I was outnumbered three to one. They grabbed my arms and legs, dragging me toward the narrow bed. The first guard was already pulling coarse rope from somewhere, the kind of rough hemp that would leave burns and scars if I struggled too hard.
“You just made everything so much worse for yourself.” He panted as he looped the rope around my wrists and tied them to the ornate bedposts with skilled knots.
My legs were spread wide and my ankles secured to the foot of the bed. The rope bit into my skin, rough fibers already starting to chafe as I tested the bonds and found them unforgivingly tight.
I lay there, strapped to the bed, and screamed.
I screamed until my voice gave out completely, until there was nothing left but a hollow rasp. Until the tears came. I called them every nasty, filthy name I could think of and threatened them with the most colorful promise of violence and revenge.
I wasn’t crying because I was scared, but terror certainly lived in my chest. I was crying because I was angry.
Because I was done being helpless, done being a possession, done pretending submission would somehow make this easier, because even tied down, even with rope burns already forming on my wrists and ankles, even with the taste of blood in my mouth from where I’d bitten my tongue, I still believed in him.
Kreed would come for me. He would.